The older I become, the more I think of my grandmother. Growing up I had mixed emotions about her. Now I remember how unique she was for her time. She ran a boarding house during the '40s, mostly young single men. Usually she knew their parents and was more like a house mother to them. The woman could scold, tease, and pray at the same time! Mothers knew when they sent their young men up north to work that someone was caring for and about them. Her favorite color was purple, same as mine. She was poor as a child and the simplest things delighted her: ice cream, fresh fruit (what a gardener!), costume jewelry, animals, etc. My only regret is that I didn't show her more affection as a child and verbally tell her that I loved her.